Mute
by DarlingBudsOfMay
Summary: Bella Swan. Mute. No one ever bothered to discover why. People just called her weird, & soon she got used to it. But her imperfectly perfect world is about to spiral out of control. All because of the popular Edward Cullen. & because he really sees her.
1. Prologue

**I've had this idea floating around for a while, so hope you guys like it! The rating is M for future lemons by the way. Please read and review, even if it's just to put a happy or a sad face, because I seriously dig reviews! **

**Obviously don't own anything Twilight related – just borrowing the characters, because seriously, who wouldn't want to write something with Edward in it :-D !**

Famous people with hearing, vision and speech impairments: Thomas Edison, Helen Keller, Ludwig Van Beethoven, Johnny Ray, Goya. Whether they were deaf, dumb or blind, these people's talents were all recognized despite their disabilities.

And then there are all the rest of us. Those who don't have any specific genius.

I don't have any brilliant talent. I'm not a brilliant scientist like Edison, I don't have great courage and patience like Helen Keller, I'm not a genius musician like Beethoven or Johnny Ray, and I'm certainly not a wonderful painter like Goya. I've probably read more books then all the students in my junior year put together, but then again, that's no hard feat to accomplish considering you're lucky to find a student my age who has even read one book.

So people don't look at me and say 'Bella Swan – she's so talented'. People look at me and say 'Bella Swan – what a freak'. Bella Swan who never speaks. Bella Swan who doesn't talk. Well, they never even bothered to ask me why. And they don't care anyway. At least they don't pretend to. If there's one thing I hate, its people pretending to take an interest in you for their own selfish motives.

There are definite advantages to being dubbed 'weird' in high school though, and I've come to appreciate them. Little things like no matter what you do, people already think you're weird, so it doesn't matter what you do anymore. Things like the fact that people never look at you, because after the initial weird stares, people will just forget you exist, so there's no fret in the morning worrying about what to wear. Things like the way teachers somehow catch on that the entire student body thinks you're weird and start taking pity on you – maybe not intentionally, but at least there's no worry that they'll pick on you in class.

Those little things are what make my life normal. As normal as it can get for me anyway. And I revel in them.

I revel as I slip on my faded jeans, my dad's old college t-shirt, and my faded rolling stones hoodie on another cold crisp September morning. I don't event think twice about slipping on my dirty black Chucks, or my mom's old old _old_ leather jacket from the seventies. I revel in not lathering my skin with makeup because no one's going to be looking at me, so why bother? I smile as I throw my rucksack on my shoulder because it's comfortable, and because no one looks at me, so I don't need to spend a thousand bucks on a designer handbag that'll give me back problems by the time I'm thirty.

These are the things that make me happy, because not much else does. They keep my world in its orbit. Little did I know, that my imperfectly perfect world that I was just getting used to was about to come crashing down around me. I didn't know that, so I smiled as I slipped into my Chevvy from the sixties that backfires every time I rev up the engine, because you know what? My name is Bella Swan, and I'm mute, but who, the fuck, cares.

**So, hope you guys like it! Please, please, PLEASE review, because it's your feedback that keeps me writing! **

**Darling Buds Of May xx **


	2. Chapter 1

1

**AN: Firstly, thanks for the great feedback! Thanks to every one of you who favourited the story and added it to your story alerts! And most of all, thanks to each of my reviewers! They honestly made me shell out this chapter that much faster. **

**Secondly, hang in there for the explanation as to why Bella's mute. This chapter will hopefully give you a bit more insight into her character. **

**And thirdly, do any of you guys know what I need to do if I'm interested in having a Beta? I'm not really sure how the whole thing works, so if one of you would like to explain it to me, that would be great!**

**Don't forget to review! And thanks again! **

We'd been back at school for three weeks, roughly. There had been no new students, not since I'd arrived earlier this year. In a town as small as Forks, Washington, new students were a rarity. New families moving into town were unheard of – I'd only moved to live with my dad, who already lived here.

But, being the Police Chief's daughter has its advantages. Namely, if anyone new moved into town, we'd be the first to know. I'd never realized this advantage until this morning, when my dad had announced:

"There's a new family that's just moved in".

I'd stopped reading my latest read to stare up at him in interest. He was leaning against the kitchen counter, as always eating his breakfast standing up instead of seated, and a drop of milk glistened on his bushy moustache. His eyes did not meet mine, instead they focused on the bowl of cereal in his hands. He spooned a mouthful to his mouth, and chewed it carefully. I tapped my foot impatiently, letting him know I was dying from the suspense. He chuckled, and swallowed.

"The McCarty's I think they're called," he told me finally, although he didn't think, he knew, because he'd probably done a background check on every single member of the family. "They moved into the Jameson's old house out in the forest."

I nodded, recognizing the house and vaguely knowing its whereabouts.

"They've got two kids, both of them in your year I think," he told me, now looking at me. I could recognize the hint in his tone of voice, feeling his gaze and avoiding it, concentrating on my coffee, and adding two more sugars to give my hands something to do. "A boy and a girl... You should get to know them."

The last part was said quietly. But I smiled into my coffee, appreciating the phrase. He'd said "get to know them" instead of "talk to them".

"Look, Bells, I know things aren't easy for you," he said, shuffling his feet and looking at the floor. I stiffened. "But just... just _try_, kid. Just try. Please. For me. And for you."

My silent response was deafening. After a minute, I stood up to clear my plate, but not before kissing my dad's cheek and giving him a one armed hug. He wrapped his arms around me, and I breathed in his scent, his familiar warm scent – tobacco, soap, and spice. He kissed the top of my head, and murmured in my hair. It was so quiet, I almost didn't catch it.

"I love you, Bells."

And I wanted to cry with frustration, because I wanted so badly to tell him "I love you too".

But I couldn't. I just couldn't.

* * *

Following the brief talk with my dad this morning, I'd had to take a good ten minutes sitting in my closet to even out my breathing and calm down. Which meant I was ten minutes later than usual arriving at school, and I was frustrated at that.

I always arrive at school first. Initially, it was purely accidental, but it's now by design. Because being an outsider has another advantage I haven't yet mentioned. Probably the biggest advantage of all: since no one is watching you, you have the privilege of watching everybody else, and laughing at the absurdity of teenage life. I get to watch the dramatic antics that define high school. And I get a front row seat – because in a school this small, and in a town like Forks, habits and traditions develop, so that everybody has their own parking spot. And mine happens to be right next to the cars of the popular kids, providing me with the perfect insight into their supposedly beautiful and perfect lives.

So when I arrive at school, I pull out my iPod, and plug in my earphones, but play no music so I can hear all the gossip that goes on through my slightly open window. I used to wonder whether they realized as they leant against my truck that I just might be able to hear every word they were saying, but I understood after a while that they probably thought 'It's just Bella Swan, and she can't talk, so we don't have to worry about her telling anyone'. So I stopped worrying about my eavesdropping, and just sat back and enjoyed the show.

I hoped there would be something interesting today. There usually was on a Monday, because there was always some party where someone got drunk and did something stupid on the weekend, and then everybody gossiped about it Monday through Friday, until the next drama that would occur the following weekend. I glanced at the clock on the dashboard – 8:35. Five minutes and the troops would arrive. Most people had already arrived, but count on the populars to make their dramatic entrance.

The populars are made up of group of five people. At the bottom of the hierarchy, you have Jessica Stanley and Lauren Mallory. My nicknames for them are Dumb and Dumber. Both have flaxen blond hair, faces plastered with makeup, and boobs that are so fake you cringe just looking at them. Above them, you have Jasper Hale. Southern bad boy who has a bunch of tattoos, smokes a lot, rides a motorbike, and supposedly sleeps with a different girl every week. Real charmer. And then at the top of the social hierarchy, you have Edward Cullen and Rosalie Hale, the former being twin sister of Jasper Hale. Forks High School's very own golden couple. Been together forever as far as I can tell and without a doubt the most beautiful couple ever to grace the halls of our miniscule small town school. If there's anything you should know about Edward Cullen it's that he's rich, had a 4.0 GPA, and looks like a Greek god personified. If there's anything you should know about Rosalie hale it's that she's also rich, looks like a runway model except with a better figure, and is the biggest bitch you could ever come across.

And speaking of the devils...

Rosalie's driving today, in her expensive red BMW convertible, her crew in the back seat. But her trophy boyfriend is nowhere to be seen. And if her mood is anything of an indication, I'd say she wasn't all too happy about it. I pull out my breakfast from my bag – banana and Nutella – and watch them pile out of her car in my side mirror. As per their usual ritual, Jasper and Rosalie lean against her car, while Dumb and Dumber lean against mine. Jasper lights one up, and exhales in a long, heavy sigh.

"Sure is quiet this morning," he drawls, staring at Rosalie as he says this, his eyes hinting at something I don't understand. "When's Eddie coming in?"

"Why the fuck should I know?"

Ah, the wonderful clipped tones of the shrew.

"Isn't he, like, your boyfriend?" Jessica asks, staring at her with a 'duh' expression. But Rosalie's ice cold look has her staring at her feet within seconds.

"Not that it's _any_ of your business," she tells her, staring at one perfectly manicured nail, "but yes, he is. And don't forget it, Stanley."

"Hey, I heard there's a new family that's just moved in," Lauren interjects. "Do you guys know anything about them?"

"Mm, I don't know," Jasper says, the corner of his mouth lifting up. "Do _you_, Rose?"

The jab is clear. The new family's arrival must have something to do with her heinous mood.

"Don't know, don't care," she snaps, now turning her glare to her brother. She straightens herself suddenly, and starts walking away noisily in her ridiculously high heels. "And how many times do I have to tell you to not fucking call me Rose?" she adds behind her shoulder, flicking her hair as she hoists her designer bag further up her shoulder.

Jasper laughs quietly, and stubs out his cigarette against my truck, like he does every morning. Grabbing his messenger bag, he follows in his sister's footsteps, throwing a mock salute over his shoulder to Dumb and Dumber, who are still leaning immobile against my truck.

"Did I miss something?" Jessica asks.

See, this is what I love about those two. Just being within a five metre radius of them makes you feel that much smarter.

* * *

I ponder over their conversation as I head to first period English. Whatever Rosalie's problem is with the McCarty's, it's obviously bothering her enough to eclipse any party/orgy that occurred over the weekend. And it might have something to do with her being pissed off at Edward, who still hasn't shown up. And neither have the new kids, which is strange, because my dad wouldn't be wrong. But I'd checked the parking lot before heading to class for any new cars, and there were none. Maybe they weren't coming today.

I settle into my usual seat once in the warm classroom that is the English room. The heating is always on full blast in this room, come rain or come shine. I secretly believe it's probably because Mr Morgan has such blue balls from being constantly rejected by Miss Cooper. The former is looking particularly sour today, and glares at every student that walks in.

"Alright, settle down, settle down," he grumbles in way of a greeting, standing up reluctantly to begin the class. He stares at us expectantly. "Why do I see no copies of Romeo and Juliet on the table?" There is a beat of silence as every student stares blankly at him. "What? I thought we were in an English class! Check your schedules people, and be prepared! I would like to begin this lesson before we all die of old age!"

His outburst has everyone rushing to get their books out of their bags, and I snort internally when Mike Newton, resident quarterback and general jerk, bangs his head loudly as he emerges from under the table, cursing as he does so.

"Language Newton! If I wanted to hear profanity I'd take a subway," Mr Morgan snaps, and Mike rolls his eyes.

"So. Obviously, we're going to be moving on from poetry to Romeo and Juliet. I assume you all have a vague idea as to the story line," Mr Morgan drones, not waiting for any replies, "I want you all to read the play by next Wednesday, when we will have a pop quiz to ensure you've all read the play thoroughly. In between time, we'll be looking at various writing techniques Shakespeare uses in Romeo and Juliet, as questions on these will be included in the quiz."

Jessica raises her hand.

"What, Stanley? Lose an implant?"

Sniggers echo around the room.

"Why can't we just read the book in class Mr Morgan?" she asks, either ignoring or not understanding his jab about the genuineness of her tits. I'd put my money on the latter.

"Because, Miss Stanley," he rolls his eyes, "I don't get paid to sit and watch you pretend to read in class whilst actually updating your Facebook status. I get paid to educate you. And if I did let you 'read' in class," he adds, using air quotation marks, "by next week your Facebook status would read: 'I'm in detention because I failed my English pop quiz'".

More sniggers ensue, and before Jessica can ask anymore annoying questions, the door slides open. I see the vague outline of someone standing in the doorway, although I am prevented of having a good view as the door is in the way.

"Who the hell are you?"

I feel immediately sorry for the person standing behind the door, having to be greeted by Mr Morgan's rude tones.

"Alice McCarty. I'm a new student."

The voice is high and tinkles, and I wonder if the person who'll emerge matches the voice.

"Well that's fantastic for you, princess, but are you meant to be in this class, or are you just lost?"

And then she does emerge, and the voice suits her perfectly. She's a tiny, pixie like girl. Her cropped black hair is streaked with purple, and frames her face nicely – a pretty face too, with a rosebud mouth, pale skin, and innocent brown eyes that dance with laughter. She hands Mr Morgan a form, and he grunts in approval.

"Where should I sit?" she asks, raising a neatly arched eyebrow at him.

Mr Morgan just shakes his head, and gestures vaguely in my direction. It's then that I realize that the only free seat is next to me. And pixie girl is heading my way.

She slides gracefully onto the seat next to mine, and flashes a wide smile at me, before facing the front as Mr Morgan continues his lecture.

"Once you've all read the book, and the pop quiz is over, you'll all be given a theme to work on, in pairs, and I want you to expand the theme into a project to be presented by half term," he concludes, rubbing his hands together eagerly, smiling wickedly at the groans and matching disgruntled faces around the room. "Your partner will be the person you are currently sitting next to. No arguments, no discussion, you're stuck for the next three weeks."

Pixie girl turns to me and grins.

"Looks like we're going to be seeing a lot of each other then."

* * *

By the time lunch swings around, I'm exhausted. Alice – who I've nicknamed energy ball – has stuck to me like Velcro since first period. She passed notes to me in English, introducing herself and asking my name. It felt weird, almost like she knew I couldn't speak. She never even asked why I didn't speak to her in between classes. It was almost like she deliberately asked me yes or no questions that simply required for me to nod or shake my head, and asked me more elaborate questions during our note passing in class. It was tiring – I hadn't interacted with a person so much in years.

And the sad thing was that I knew it secretly pleased me. And the reason this was sad, was because she'd soon discover I was a 'weirdo' in the eyes of the rest of the school, and veer clear of me forever more. I knew this moment would arrive during lunch. And although I tried to pretend like I would be relieved to be rid of Alice's company, exhausting as she was, I knew I would be sad. Because she'd made me realize how much I missed human interaction.

So it is with a heavy heart that I walk towards the cafeteria, Alice in tow.

The stares begin in the lunch queue. At first it's only a few people doing double takes as they see the school weirdo with the new kid, but word must soon get around, because by the time we reach the end of the queue, the entire cafeteria is staring at us. Even Rosalie Hale and her cronies spare us a glance.

I blush and stare at my tray, standing awkwardly in the middle of the cafeteria as I wait for the rejection that is sure to come.

My eyes fly open when Alice touches my arm. Was she really going to hit me?

But no. She leads me gently but firmly towards a free table by the window.

She sits down, and stares at me expectantly.

"Well, aren't you going to sit down?"

I flop rather ungracefully into the chair opposite her, and stare as she begins to munch on her salad. Feeling my gaze on her, she looks up at me.

"What?" she questions.

I don't know what to reply. Not that I could if I wanted to, but it's not like I could say 'I'm a freak, and was just wondering why you were hanging out with me'. Alice doesn't wait for me to answer, although I'm not sure if that's because she knows I can't, or because she doesn't want me to. But she does.

"Listen," she begins seriously, placing her hand in the crook of my elbow and holding my gaze firmly. "I know. Okay? I know. But you don't need to tell me why. I'm just happy to have your company. And I think we're going to be great friends, so please don't push me away, okay? Please?"

Somehow, I manage to nod through the swirling emotions that cloud my brain. And then I don't know if I want to laugh or cry, because I realize that for the first time in five years, I have a friend again.

* * *

The rest of the day bumps and grinds unevenly. I don't have any afternoon classes with Alice, and in a way I'm grateful, as I hope to come to terms with the confusion that's grappling my brain. But the stares persist through my last three periods, and they unnerve me, not being used to so much attention.

So when I finally make it to the comfort of my home by 4 o'clock, I'm practically desperate. I run blindly up the stairs, the panic attack already clouding my vision and hindering my breathing. I stumble into my closet, and slam the door shut behind me. I take deep, shuddering breaths, and slowly, my breathing evens out.

I started the whole closet thing when I was fifteen. After it all started, I could never seem to get away from my ugly reflection. The ugliness that I'd become stared back at me from every surface around me, and the only place where it evaded me completely, was in the dark sanctuary of my closet. My closet remained without maim, untouched by the dirty acts that occurred against almost every other surface in my room. The door, the wooden floor, the fluffy rug, the chest of drawers, the desk, every inch of my wall, and worst of all: my bed. He ruined my room for me. He ruined my surroundings. No matter where I looked, the horrors that he'd carried out stared back at me. And my bed... I could no longer sleep in that bed so filled was it with his sick filth.

So I'd take refuge in my closet, where I could submerge myself into the darkness. Where there was no light to contrast with the darkness that I'd become, no light and brightness to remind me of the beautiful things that seemed to happen to everyone except me.

When I moved to Forks, things started to calm down. The difference between the light and the dark was no longer such a contrast. I had no wonderful friends, doting parent or excellent grades to contrast with the opposing shell I'd become. I was no longer full of darkness – now he was gone, it went too. But there still remained a shade that followed me wherever I went, hanging above me like a persistent cloud that never goes away. Alice's kindness to me today had brought that shade into focus. Because she'd reminded me of the beauty of the world, and the happiness this life can hold. And that had in turn reminded me of how broken I still am.

Because let's face it, here I am, three years on, and I still hide in my closet at eighteen.

It's a sadness that I've yet to overcome.

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**Darling Buds Of May xx**


	3. Chapter 2

2

**AN: Hey guys!**

**Thanks for the great feedback for the last chapter, as usual, I really appreciate it! And thanks for all the favouriting! **

**Once again, I have no Beta to double check this, so please forgive, well – all of the below! **

**Enjoy! **

Here's something I learnt early on in biology.

Plants use a process called photosynthesis to convert carbon dioxide into oxygen and glucose. But for this process to be able to take place properly, the plants need sunlight. Almost everyone has done a lab experiment to observe the growth of plants in different conditions and concluded that plants suffer from stunted growth if in darkness.

I've concluded that the same is true of humans. Although we need sunlight physically for its vitamin C, metaphorically, we need another kind of light. An emotional light – a happiness full of good and beautiful things. If continuously surrounded by darkness, where evil and cruelty lurks in every shadow, our emotional growth is stunted.

And this theory has prompted me to limit my time in the closet to fifteen minutes, and only in dire situations. Because if I spent more time in the closet, and more often, I would not only be surrounded by a metaphorical darkness, but a physical one too. And the two combined cannot serve any good purpose.

So after said panic attack, I settle down fairly quickly. Emerging from the closet, I remember to text Alice about the Romeo and Juliet project. I wasn't sure why she felt the need to discuss it when it wasn't due till the end of term, but I send her a quick message anyway, as she'd given me her number and didn't have mine.

_Hey Alice, it's Bella. Just wanted to give you my number if you wanted to get in touch. X_

Her reply is almost immediate.

_**Hey! Thx 4 getting in touch! What u up 2? **_

_Just starting on some homework, you? _

_**Same. Got much 2 do? **_

_Just a few maths exercises. _

_**Same! U should come over when ur done so we can start the project! **_

_We've got some time to complete it, there's no hurry... _

_**Yh but the sooner we start the better! U can meet my family anyway & just hang out.**_

I debate for a minute, and bite my lip. Why not?

_Okay. Let me just ask my dad. X _

_**Awesome! Lemme know when ur on ur way over! X**_

I smile at her enthusiasm. It feels weird having someone to text. Even weirder going to someone's house. And definitely a good weird.

My dad is still at work, so I send him a text asking if it's okay. His reply is also instantaneous and enthusiastic.

**Sure kid! Come home whenever! Just leave your old man some food, please. And thanks for trying Bells ****Love, dad. **

I chuckle and go down to the kitchen to make sure my dad doesn't starve, unable to wipe the small smile from my face.

I make some spaghetti Bolognese, and leave it in the fridge for him to heat up. Scribbling some instructions on a post it explaining where the food is and how to heat it without burning the house down, I then leave it on the table where he'll see it, before going upstairs to get ready to head to Alice's.

Back in my room, I have a shower to freshen up, giving my hair a quick wash at the same time. I change into some jeans, a tee, and a hoodie, tying my hair into a loose bun to get it out of my face. Grabbing my keys, phone, and wallet, I'm in the middle of going through a mental checklist to make sure I have everything when I catch sight of my reflection in the mirror. And as it usually does, the image stops me dead in my tracks.

I hate mirrors. All I ever see is my ugly reflection staring back at me. It's like my past has warped and deformed my reflection to the point where I can no longer stand looking at myself. And I'd never been a pretty girl either. I am plain – brown hair, brown eyes and a pale complexion. The only thing I like is the length of my hair. I'd had an obsession with Arwen from the Lord of the Rings when I was fifteen, and as a result had grown my hair to match hers. So now it reaches the small of my back, and I'm proud of the patience I had with it. It had taken me all of three years to achieve the desired length.

But even my hair doesn't make up for the rest of me.

He used to make me do things in front of the mirror, so I could see it all happening.

I shake my head and look away, instead grabbing my parka off the back of my desk chair, and head for my car. I text Alice once I'm in my car for her address, and she replies with some detailed instructions explaining how to get there. The text is four texts long, and I frown. The Jameson's old house isn't an easy place to get to.

The Jameson family had consisted of the parents and two kids. Both kids were older than me, and once the youngest had graduated and moved off to college, the parents packed up and went off on a world tour to celebrate. It was no great secret that the family was rich, hence the secluded house out in the middle of nowhere. The road that leads to the house is a long winding one. As I drive along carefully, I take in the beautiful forest around me. It rains an average of 2,700 mm of rain each year in Forks, one of the wettest places in the US. While the damp weather does little for my spirits each day, having come from one of the sunniest places in the US – Phoenix, Arizona – it does wonders for the forest. Everywhere is a beautiful lush green.

I'm busy admiring the scenery when suddenly an opening appears in the trees, so sudden it takes me by surprise. And just as suddenly, the house comes into view in the clearing. I realize that the house must be near the Quillayute river – I can hear the rushing waters from here. I park on the side of the road, not worrying about my truck being in the way as the road ends with the clearing.

I sit in the car for a few moments, just taking in the house.

My first impression is of its sheer size. My house could fit into this one twenty times over. Well, maybe not twenty times, but at least twice. And it's such a beautiful piece of architecture, made up of floor length windows and smooth, dark wood. I slowly step out of my car, and walk up the marble steps to what I assume is the front door.

Alice is jumping at the door before I even reach it. She's grinning like a fool, and wrenches it open for me.

"Bella! You came!"

She throws her arms around me, and it's then that I'm struck by her tininess. I'm easily able to rest my head comfortably on hers. But I don't try, seeing as she still hasn't stopped jumping, and the last thing I fancy at the moment is a cracked jaw.

"Come on in!" she cries, pulling away to lead me inside.

She shuts the door behind us, and then is bounding up the stairs. I remain frozen at the bottom of them. I feel intimidated by the clean and pristine entrance hall. I wonder if I should take me shoes off.

Eventually realizing I'm not following her, Alice turns at the top, and grins down at me.

"Come on!" she gestures, and I slowly make my way up behind her. "I want you to meet my mom. And don't worry about taking your shoes off," she adds, seeming to read my mind. "None of us do."

She pulls me to the left once I reach the top, and I'm still staring behind us at the magnificent staircase we've just climbed. But my attention is once again diverted, and I'm now gaping at the immense kitchen I'm standing in.

It's so big, I almost miss the woman standing behind the counter.

If this is Alice's mother, then I definitely see where she gets her loveliness from. The woman is petite, and elegant. She's wearing a pair of white cut off pants, and a soft white cashmere sweater. Her hair is long, caramel coloured and wavy, and her eyes a soft hazel. They are smiling at me.

My immediate appraisal is: she looks like an angel.

"Bella, this is my mom, Esme," she gestures to the woman, "Mom, this is my new friend, Bella."

I smile tentatively. And then Esme walks around the counter to give me a gentle but firm hug.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Bella," she says in a similar tinkling voice to Alice's. She pulls back to hold me at arm's length. "I trust you're staying for dinner? We're having Italian," she adds, smiling invitingly.

I look at Alice.

"Yes! Of course she's going to stay," she declares, grinning. "That way you'll get to meet my dad."

"Yes, I'm sure Carlisle would love to meet you," Esme tells me, the smile still not leaving her face.

"We're going to go up to my room, mom," Alice says, already pulling me away. "Call us if you need anything!"

I manage to throw a wave back over my shoulder at Esme, as Alice jerks me up yet another flight of beautiful stairs. Esme's laugh echoes behind us.

"So, brief tour," she shows me down the corridor of the first floor. "Mom and dad's room, dad's office for when he works from home... second floor..." we run up more stairs "... brother's room and spare room, both with en suites, gym... third floor..." I'm starting to get breathless "...other brother's room, spare room... and..." she pulls me around a corner and through a door on the right "my room!"

I stand in the middle of her bedroom, out of breath, and dazed.

It's only there, having caught my breath, that something Alice has just said registers with me as strange.

I frown, and Alice, now seated on her king size four poster bed, frowns back at me.

I lift up two fingers, and then cock my head to one side. She looks confused for a moment, and then understanding dawns on her face.

"Yeah, I have two brothers," she tells me, flicking a piece of fluff of her comforter.

Strange. I was sure my dad had said the McCartys only had two kids.

"You'll meet them later," she adds, still rubbing down her comforter. "So, what do you think of my room?" she asks me excitedly.

I do a slow 360 to take in her room, which like everything else in this house it seems, is massive. It's completely white apart from the red rug on her floor. A massive iMac sits on the dark wooden desk that faces the window. There's a door on each wall either side of the window. One I can see leads into an en suite bathroom, and the other, it seems, is a closet. A massive dressing table covered in cosmetics takes up most of the left hand side of the room, and the bed takes up the right hand side, with two small bedside tables on either side. I face Alice, and give her a small smile and shrug.

She frowns.

"There's something wrong isn't there?" she asks, worrying her lip.

I bite my own lip, and nod. I make a gesture to show that it's too bright.

"I know! That's what I thought!" she agrees emphatically. "I want to paint it. We'll probably do it during the end of term holidays. But I don't just want to have one colour. I want to have paintings of things on it, y'know? Like birds, and animals, and maybe even some writing. Quotes, perhaps?"

I nod, and smile in approval, going to sit beside her on her bed.

I gesture for some pen and paper, which she pulls out of a drawer in her bedside table. I then do a quick sketch of a swallow, and write underneath:

"_Swallows mate for life. But I haven't found my mate yet."_

She squeals.

"That's perfect!" she tells me, giving me a quick kiss on the cheek. "And your drawing is amazing!"

I blush and shake my head, scrawling:

"_It's just a sketch."_

"Well then I can't wait to see what happens when you take your time! You must be really good!"

I shake my head again, scoffing slightly.

"_I could do one in colour for you, and one in black and white to represent your unknown soul mate...?"_

"That'd be great!" she claps her hands excitedly, but then a serious look crosses her face. "Hey," she says softly, nudging my arm. "If you're good at something, don't be ashamed of it. And trust me, you're good at this."

And then it's like I'm having déjà-vu, and I succumb to the memory pushing through my brain.

"_Bella!"_

_My mom's voice sounds far away. I recognize the need to answer her call, but am too busy. My swallows aren't right. Something's missing. _

"_Bella!"_

_I can't ignore her any longer, as her voice sounds out right next to me. _

"_Wow, honey, they're really good!" she tells me proudly, smiling at my painting. _

_She's wearing her jean overalls covered in paint, and a flannel shirt underneath that, her hair tied up in a messy braid. Eyes sparkling, a smile pulling at the corner of her lips, she bends to my level to tell me something conspiratorially. _

"_Did you know that swallows mate for life?" she whispers. _

_I shake my head._

"_It's true."_

_I gaze up at my mother, my eyes widening and smiling. _

"_Well, I haven't found my swallow yet," she laughs, pulling herself up straight again._

_It's then that I realize what's wrong. There's one swallow too many. So I pull a thick brush from the water, and paint over the second one._

"_Now it's perfect," she tells me. "Because I don't think you've found your mate either!" she laughs. _

"_Ew, mom, why would I want a mate?" I scrunch up my nose at the thought. "Boys are icky."_

"_Oh, sweetie, you are so right," she chuckles. "You're so wonderful my little Bella, you know that?" She draws me into her arms and her warm breath fans over my head. "So talented, my baby..."_

My mother used to be an artist. An eccentric painter and sculptor, her favourite subjects were handsome young men and women. Her favourite artists were Michelangelo and Gustav Klimt. She'd do portraits of her subjects, whether it was in painting form or sculpture form. My favourites were the sculptures she'd do of young women. They were vague shapes highlighting the elegance of the female body. When people asked me what I wanted to do when I grew up, I'd tell them I wanted to be one of my mother's muses.

She'd meet her muses on the streets, and go up to them to ask if they would pose for her. I was never allowed to watch her paint these beautiful young people, as they were usually naked portraits, but I'd always get to see the finished project. And whist she worked on the painting, it was inevitable she'd fall in love with her muse, male or female. They would have a brief fling, and mom would always be devastated when the relationship came to an end. But she wasn't the type to have a committed relationship, or settle down, especially not with a twenty something year old, and so it was usually her who broke it off in the end. This pattern was something I had grown up with and gotten used to.

That was until she met _him_.

"Bella? Bella?"

Alice's voice shakes me from my reverie.

My mom found her swallow alright. Just not the one I'd had in mind.

I shake my head to free it of the thought process I know will follow unless I interrupt it now.

I smile at Alice, shrugging.

"Lost you there for a minute," she laughs, standing up slowly and stretching. "Well, you're definitely going to be painting with me. We'll make a whole day of it."

She grins at me, before saying: "Come on, my mom called for dinner."

I watch as Alice walks into what I assume is her closet, and then emerge wearing a different outfit. This is obviously her version of casual – a pair of tight jeans and pink cashmere sweater in the place of the black and white tartan dress and red leggings she'd been wearing before.

"Just wanted to slip into something more comfortable," she tells me as I stare at her. I chuckle as I follow her out the door, and she grabs my hand once in the corridor.

She wraps her other arm around me, and whispers "I'm so glad you're here Bella".

All I can do is smile widely.

* * *

We walk downstairs still holding hands, Alice chatting the whole way. The closer we get to the kitchen though, the higher the little stomach nerves creep. What if they ask me questions? How will I answer? What will Alice say? What if they just think I'm weird, the way everyone else does?

_If they think you're weird, you just deal with it, _I tell myself. _Everyone else thinks you're weird, so don't let one girl mess up your game!_

To distract myself from the approaching kitchen, I observe the rest of the Cullen house, as we sweep down the various staircases.

The whole house is white, it seems. A mixture of white and dark wood and glass windows at the end of every corridor. As I stare out the large glass panel against which leans the staircase, I notice the raindrops clinging to it. It's raining. I might consider this as a sign if it weren't for the fact that it's always raining in Forks. Plus, I don't believe in signs.

When we enter the kitchen, I'm wondering whether I should though.

Because leaning against the counter, stealing pieces of food from a sizzling pot whilst being playfully chastised by Esme, is none other than Edward Cullen.

I gape.

"Edward! Hey!"

The man in question turns as Alice calls his name.

"Hello, Alice," he says, a demure response compared to her enthusiastic greeting. But this obviously doesn't deter Alice, because he has hardly anytime to register the movement as she throws herself into his arms.

To say I'm confused beyond belief is an understatement.

But then my confusion is replaced with fear, as Edward, resting his head on Alice's, raises his eyes and meets my confused turned fearful gaze.

I notice various things at once.

Firstly, Edward Cullen has _beautiful_ eyes. A deep emerald green framed by long eyelashes.

Secondly, various expressions cross his face as he notices me. Surprise, confusion, and resignation are among them, but none hostile, which surprises me and confuses me even more.

Thirdly, Alice is currently introducing me.

"Edward, meet my new friend Bella Swan," she begins from under his arm, "Bella, this is my brother. Edward."

Brother. Brother? Brother...

I'm sure I recall my dad saying the family were called McCarty. And Alice even introduced herself as McCarty. But I'm one hundred per cent sure Edward's last name is Cullen. Without a doubt.

So where's the connection?

"I'm sure you guys already know each other from school," Esme says.

I realize I'm still gaping, so I try and rearrange my face into a somewhat acceptable expression. But it apparently doesn't work, as Alice suddenly feels the need to explain.

"Our parents have been separated for years, and I've always lived with my mother whilst Edward's always been here with our dad," she tells me. "But they've recently gotten back together, so..."

"Here we are," Edward finished quietly. "Most people aren't exactly privy to this information though..."

"I'm sure Bella will be discreet with it," Esme says with finality, clearly chastising Edward for making the assumption I would blab. Her comment makes me blush and I stare at my feet.

"What's up dudes and dudettes?"

The awkward silence is broken by a loud booming voice I don't recognize, and a huge bear of a man enters the kitchen.

"Emmett, are you even able to speak in anything less than twenty decibels loud?" Esme teases, shaking her head into her pot.

"Nope, Ma," Emmett laughs.

He turns to face Edward, Alice and I, still standing awkwardly in the space between the kitchen and dining room.

"What's the congregation about?" he laughs, before noticing me. "And who's this little person here?"

"That's Bella, my new friend from school," Alice says hurriedly. "And don't you dare scare her Emmett or she'll never be my friend again."

Emmett booms something I'm assuming is a laugh.

"Now, would I ever?" he says, throwing a massive muscled arm around me. "So, Bella. I think the question to ask here is, has my sister scared _you_ yet?"

"No, now shut up Emmett," Alice says, pulling away from Edward to stand next to me.

"Scared she'll say yes Twinkle Toes? Can't she speak for herself?"

Emmett's question is answered by silence. Even Esme has stopped chopping vegetables in her corner.

"Shall we sit down for dinner?"

Another voice interrupts the silence. I spin around to face the new addition to our company, and I'm greeted by a handsome man who cannot be anybody other than Edward's dad. The resemblance is simply too striking. His face holds a quiet reassuring calm that immediately soothes my inner turmoil at the fast moving pace of the conversation.

"Yes, let's," Esme replies. "Edward, would you grab the casserole? Alice dear, get some juice from the fridge, the rest of you, sit."

I stand alone as Alice goes to the fridge, but Esme puts an arm around me and leads me to the long dining table, squeezing my side as she does.

"Come on, sweets," she says. "You can sit next to Alice."

And opposite Edward, my brain registers, as Edward slides into the seat across from me.

I stare down at my plate.

"Bella, is it?"

I look up at Carlisle, currently seated to my left at the head of the table.

"I'm Carlisle," he tells me, stretching out his hand. I shake it, and nod in answer to his question.

"I think she's gathered as much, dad," Alice laughs, plopping down next to me, and immediately swiping at Emmett's hand as he reaches to serve himself some casserole. "Ladies first you ape," she scolds, going to help herself.

But then Edward swipes at her hand, glaring.

"Guests first, shortie," he says, and turns to look at me. "Go ahead."

It's the first time Edward's ever directly addressed me, and I can feel the blush spreading over my cheeks.

But I concentrate on not spilling food everywhere as I serve myself.

"Well thank goodness one of you has remembered your manners," Esme laughs. "Emmett, did you pick up anything interesting furniture wise today?"

Emmett launches into a detailed description of a play station he bought, but I'm only half listening as Esme tells him off for not buying any real furniture.

"Cool t shirt."

My head jerks up at Edward's voice though. I look to my left, but realize that Carlisle is wearing a shirt, and Alice and Emmett are wearing sweaters, so I quickly look down to see what t shirt I am wearing, as I barely registered getting dressed this afternoon.

I'm wearing an old concert tee for the Smiths that I bought for ten bucks on Ebay.

"Do you like the Smiths?" Edward then asks.

In my morning eavesdropping sessions, one of the things I've always noticed, is the timbre of Edward's voice. Deep and velvety, I've guessed that he's a good singer due to the melodic quality in it as well.

Hearing it so close, and addressing me directly, almost distracts me from the question.

But I manage a fairly non jerky nod in response.

"Same," he says simply, before returning to his food.

I then notice that the whole table has gone silent, and everyone is staring at us. The blush that had started to die down returns full blast, and I also return to my food.

What the hell is happening?

* * *

I leave after dinner.

After Edward's brief interaction with me, the silence never really left, so I was pretty much desperate to go from that moment onwards. For my first expedition out in over five years, I don't have a bar to raise it against, and I'm not sure whether to laugh or cry about the whole experience.

Charlie tries to act nonchalantly interested in my evening out when I get home.

"Have a nice time?" he asks, turning his gaze from the flat screen to my face.

I nod and shrug.

"Do anything interesting?"

I shake my head.

"Nothing?"

I shake my head again.

Beat.

I wave goodnight, and make my way upstairs.

"G'night!" he calls after me.

Once in my room, I go about getting ready for bed almost methodically. Put clothes away, get into pajamas, brush teeth, pack bag for tomorrow, lights off, bed.

Once under the duvet, I let my mind wander over the evening.

And after fifteen minutes contemplation, my only conclusion is:

Well that was fucking weird.

I grab my iPod from my bedside table and plug in the earphones.

I fall asleep listening to the Smiths.

* * *

I sleep fitfully. But at least I sleep, which is more than I can say for the night before.

My car however, does not have a good night, and decides to have a melt down when I try starting it in the morning, so I'm forced to call Alice for help as Charlie is already at work. She agrees to come pick me up in ten minutes.

So I sit, and wait.

After two minutes I get bored of waiting and go back upstairs to check I have everything. Checking I have everything then turns into looking at what I'm wearing, and I look at my outfit, I wonder if I look even darker and duller next to Alice and her exciting outfits.

I'm wearing jeans again. These happen to be a relatively new pair, that I bought online – probably the tightest pair I own. I think they're called skinny jeans. I've paired it with a concert tee for the Clash that belonged to my dad. Due to its enormous size, I'm forced to tie a not so that it doesn't reach down to my knees. And on top of that I'm wearing a black American Apparel hoodie, and my mom's old leather jacket. The look is the same as my look yesterday, just slightly varied.

I go to my closet to see if I have any bright colours. But the brightest thing I own is a red hoodie, and even that is a slightly murky red.

I sigh, before chastising myself. It's not like I even like bright colours anyway.

Just then, a car horn sounds outside, so I shove my feet into my sneakers, and rush downstairs and outside.

Once I've locked the door, I notice the car.

I know this car. It parks next to mine a couple of days of week. And happens to belong to Edward Cullen.

I falter in my steps. Because I'm not sure if I want to submit myself to Edward Cullen's company once again, having had enough of the weirdness of his seemingly kind behaviour to me. But maybe he'll remember who I am this morning, and employ the hostility I'm used to. So I steady myself and march on, squinting at the rain, and lifting the hood on my sweater to shield my face.

The car is cosy and warm when I slide into the back seat.

I'm greeted by the smiling faces of Alice in shotgun, and Emmett beside me.

"Hey Bella!"

"Bella Wella!"

I raise an eyebrow at Emmett, who shrugs.

"It's cute," he offers as a response.

I just shake my head, and scoff.

"What's wrong with your car?" Edward asks in way of a greeting.

I shrug, and frown unhappily.

"If you want, I'll come check it out for you, after school."

Silence. I stare at Edward, my mouth slightly open. Where's the hostility? I demand hostility!

"Er, yeah..." Alice says slowly, looking slightly confused, before turning to me. "Edward's good with cars. I'm sure he'll figure it out. We'll just get Mom to pick us up," she adds, turning to Emmett.

Emmett shrugs again.

"Fine by me," he says.

"It's settled then," Edward says softly, before throwing the car into drive, and pulling out of my driveway, the engine purring as he does so.

Things just got weirder.

* * *

I'm beginning to think I'm having a mid life crisis. Can you have one at seventeen? And do the symptoms include general weirdness and tumult in your life? If yes, then I'm most definitely suffering from it.

Because lunchtime arrives, and things haven't gotten any more normal.

People stared when we arrived at school. Initially I tried to convince myself it was because of Alice and Emmett, the latter who hadn't been at school yesterday, but I quickly realized they were all staring at me. So I blushed, and stared at my feet, and basically tripped my way into school.

The whispers followed me through Trig, English and History. Alice was with me in English, and managed to glare most of the stares away, but the whispering couldn't be stopped. It's definitely bordering on uncomfortable, and if it doesn't stop, I might just have a mini breakdown in the middle of school.

I feel like shouting:

"_It's just me! Weirdo Bella Swan! Who never speaks! So stop. Fucking. STARING!"_

But I manage to restrain myself, and just to make sure I don't explode, I keep my head down as Alice and I make our way through the lunch queue. The girl is currently babbling on about some dress she 'fell madly in love with' in some magazine.

"It was sooo amazing! I think I'll make one exactly like it," she tells me excitedly. "I'll probably take the picture into a department store in Seattle this weekend and see if they have similar materials so I can design a replica. I mean, obviously I'll sauce it up a bit and add an Alice McCarty touch to it..."

I drown out her voice as we sit down at the same table as yesterday.

What can I do to make them stop? I don't want people staring at me. Or whispering. But how do I get them to stop, when I don't even know why they're staring? Well, I do have a pretty good idea – loner Bella Swan is hanging out with the new kids, and got driven to school by Edward Cullen. But it's not exactly front page news worthy! What happened to the party slash orgy slash scandal that without a doubt occurred over the weekend? Why can't they stare at the culprits involved in _that _incident instead of at me?

A chair scrapes and I jump slightly.

"Sorry... I didn't mean to startle you."

Oh no. Oh no, no, _no._

This will most definitely not solve the stares. This will fan the flames of the gossipers of our school, increase the stares, and increase chances of my having a heart attack at the tender age of seventeen.

Because Edward Cullen is sitting next to me in the cafeteria, and the entire school population is frozen mid mouthful, staring at us.

And I'm in much the same position, my apple halfway towards my mouth as I prepare to take my next bite.

"Do you mind if I sit?" he asks in his velvety voice.

_Yes, I really, really do, because you're the reason people are staring at me._

_But you do have such a lovely voice..._

Focus Bella.

I shake my head, and place my apple back on my tray.

"...and I don't think the hemline should be too difficult to recreate, do you Edward?"

In my stunned state, I'd forgotten about Alice.

I turn to her as she stares at Edward, waiting for his reply. So then I also turn to Edward. And I'm met by his deep, intense stare that makes me almost as uncomfortable as the stares I've been getting from my peers.

"What's up amigos and amigas?"

Emmett has the most impeccable timing I'm beginning to think, as long as he doesn't create even more awkward tension as yesterday.

And when I turn my head away from Edward's gaze to greet Emmett, I realize that he's about to generate even more awkward tension.

"I met this cutesie in Trig, and she said she knew you Eddie boy, so I told her to tag along," he almost sings, smiling happily at us, before grinning at Rosalie, who's currently standing beside him.

Emmett plonks himself down beside me. We're seated on a round six seated table, with Edward sitting between Alice and I, so Rosalie has no choice but to seat herself next to Alice, opposite Emmett.

The reluctance in her movement is palpable.

"Hello, Edward," she says quietly, giving him an icy stare.

I quickly glance at Edward to see his reaction, and then wish I hadn't, because he's still staring at me. And I'm not the only one who's noticed. Rosalie turns her cold glare to me, and then her mouth forms a sneer.

"Look who it is," she says. "The speechless Swan."

Emmett stiffens beside me.

"You were much nicer on your own," he says coldly. Rosalie just shrugs, still not taking her glare off me.

"What's your name again?" he asks.

Rosalie looks put out at this.

"Rosalie," she sniffs at him.

"Well, Roslyn – "

"Rosalie."

"Right, Rosetta, whatever," he continues, ignoring her. "It doesn't seem like we're going to be getting along quite as well as I thought we would, so why don't you – "

"Leave? But the party's just getting started!"

And it's just gotten worse, as Jasper Hale slides into the last space available, grinning widely.

"I'm Jasper Hale," he introduces himself, shaking Emmett's hand, and then turns to Alice. He extends her hand to her, and she moves to shake it, but he grabs it lightly at the last minute to place a gentle kiss on her knuckles. And I fear for Jasper, because if he pushes things too far, he doesn't know that he's about to get hated on by both Emmett and Edward, unaware that Edward is Alice's brother. "And who might you lovely lady be?"

Alice snorts.

"I'm Alice," she says, smiling sweetly at him. "And if you're related to this bitch over here, then I'm not going to be a lovely lady for long."

Jasper laughs heartily at that.

"You're awfully feisty for such a small thing," he comments, still smiling. And then he lowers his voice to a whisper, adding, "But I like my girls that way."

"Talk to my sister like that again and you lose a testicle Hale," Edward says, finally making his presence known, and in a voice so casual, it hardly sounds like a threat.

"Sister?"

Rosalie's gaping now.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me!" she cries.

"The plot thickens," Jasper drawls, sucking on a lolly now, and lolling back in his chair to watch the show.

Emmett glares at him.

"You had me thinking you were fucking her or something behind my back!"

Edward rolls his eyes.

"Of course you'd think that," he says, "But you wouldn't if you knew me at all."

"Why the hell did I not know this?" Rosalie asks.

"Probably because you can't keep your fucking mouth shut," Edward snarls.

There's a brief pause, and the glint in Rosalie's eyes warns me that whatever she's about to say next isn't good.

And it isn't.

"So what, you decided to tell the Speechless Swan instead, because you knew she would?"

A deadly silence comes over the table.

And then finally I've had enough, and I get up, grab my tray, and bolt.

**Please review and let me know what you think!**

**Darling Buds xx**


	4. Chapter 3

3

**AN: Wow! AMAZING feedback on the last chapter! Thank you to every single one of my reviewers, you're all amazing and please keep reviewing! Thank you too to everyone who's added my story to their favourites and put it on alert! **

**I still haven't got a Beta, but hopefully that'll change soon ;-) I know it's taken me longer to update than usual, but things have been a bit hectic lately. I'm actually pleased with this chapter, so I hope you guys enjoy reading!**

**Songs mentioned in this chapter are Re: Stacks by Bon Iver, and No You Girls Never Know by Franz Ferdinand. Both are great songs and great artists, so check them out! Also, check out the artists mentioned that are on Edward's iPod – they're all fantastic! **

**Enjoy and review!**

* * *

I've put up with a lot.

Him, my mother, life altering upheaval, depressive aftermath, rejection and dismissal from my peers... But never this. Never direct cruelty. Well, there's a first time for everything, right? And Rosalie Hale just handed me a first – and I really, _really,_ didn't like it.

Something I've discovered about myself over the years is that in the aftermath of every confrontation or confronting situation, I have a tendency to run and hide. Like the first time my mum told me off. Like the first time _he_ approached me. Like when my dad tried to talk about the whole situation. Like now.

The football field is empty, as it usually is at lunch, and it's drizzling slightly. I climb to the top seats of the bleachers, and sit on the bench somewhere in the middle. What I love about it here, is that it's out of view of the school. The only window that looks out onto the field is the teacher's room, and they always have the blinds drawn – God knows why. Probably having an orgy.

I pull my hood up around my face, but my long hair lies exposed, and drop of water cling to the strands. I pick at a split end subconsciously. Need to get a hair trim soon. Maybe this weekend? I'd rather get it done in Port Angeles – more anonymity, less of the pitied stares.

"Hey, there."

I jump slightly, and turn to look up into the face of Jasper Hale.

"Great spot huh?"

I stare at him blankly, before nodding and shrugging, turning to stare at the field again. I don't want to display my discomfort or confusion as to why he's talking to me. Jasper straddles the bench next to me, and I recognize the click of a lighter. I turn to see him struggling to light his cigarette, so I lift my hand to block the wind, and he manages to catch the flame on the end. He flashes me a grin in thanks.

He holds up the pack of cigarettes, offering me one silently. I stare at the pack for a minute, before shrugging and holding my hand out for one. If he's surprised, he doesn't show it. I clutch the cancer stick lightly between my lips, and he lights it for me, as we shield the flame with our hands.

I inhale deeply, and feel the familiar burn and release. It's been a while... I'd stopped once I moved in with Charlie, but it was only a matter of time I realize, as I exhale the smoke.

"Never pegged you for a smoker," Jasper comments.

I give him a look that clearly screams my exasperation. He just grins again.

Just like I've always know Edward is beautiful and handsome, I've always known Jasper was rugged and gorgeous. One look at him and you know he's the 'bad boy'. Leather jacket, low strung jeans, leather biker boots, cigarette... He screams '_Fathers! Lock up your daughters!'_ I've always appreciated his appeal – but from a distance. Up close, his face is rather lovely too I realize. Five o'clock shadow, casually elegant hair, crystal clear blue eyes with a mischievous twinkle, lop sided grin on a lovely mouth... But I would never say he is more beautiful than Edward, because Edward's beauty is just perfect. A perfect beauty, the stuff of gods – whereas Jasper's is an imperfect beauty, worn and rough. Although I suppose they both appeal in different ways, I know who appeals to me more.

I realize I've been staring at him calculatingly, and blush slightly, realizing he's staring straight back. So I look down at my feet, and chew a fingernail.

"Hey," he says softly, searching out my eyes. I meet his blue ones briefly before looking away again. Finally, he grabs my chin to turn it towards me, but I jerk away from his touch, recoiling instantly.

His eyes appear slightly surprised, before flashing with recognition. He chuckles slightly, and draws in a deep breath. He brings his cigarette to his mouth, and the end twinkles at me.

"So, I guess you've noticed that my sister's a bitch," he says suddenly, bluntly.

I blink at him in shock, and he laughs at my startled expression.

"Don't get me wrong," he adds, smiling, "I mean I love her – but you don't have to like the people you love. And I don't like Rosalie."

I continue to stare at him silently.

"Well, anyway," he says, cigarette ash flying away in the wind, "I though I'd apologize for her, cause she never will, and me being her twin and all... maybe you wouldn't mind hearing it from me."

I bite my lip, and to delay my response, bring my cigarette up to my lips, taking my time inhaling and exhaling. I'm on the verge of nodding to show it's all forgotten, but Jasper suddenly grabs my hand. The movement is forceful and demanding, and reminds me of _his_ forcefulness and rough movements. I struggle against his grip, but he doesn't let go. I start to use my whole body to try and extract it from his, but he holds fast, finally grabbing both of my arms to hold me still.

I whimper, and then suddenly, just as suddenly as it began, he lets go. He lets out a satisfied 'hm' – almost as if he's proved a point.

I put my face in my hands and lean my elbows on my knees, heaving. And then Jasper's face is close to mine, his breath whispering in my ear and making me shiver even more than I already am.

"I know your kind, Swan," he whispers.

And then he's gone, just as quickly as he's come.

* * *

To say I puzzle and fret over my brief interaction with Jasper is an understatement. Not only did he completely freak me out, but what the hell did he mean? What kind am I? Did he know about my past? How did he know? And most importantly – was he going to tell anyone?

I decide to skip the rest of the day and just go home, before realizing that I don't have a car. So I hover in the parking lot, unsure of what to do.

It's then that Edward Cullen swings open the door to his Volvo, scaring the living daylights out of me as I hadn't even noticed he was there.

"Sorry," he mumbles.

I shake my head, and try and calm my pounding heart.

"Listen, about earlier, I'm sorry about – "

I lift a hand up, and shake my head. I've had one apology already, and it wasn't Edward's fault anyway.

"Ok, cool," he mutters.

We stand there opposite each other, both looking elsewhere, me chewing my fingernails again, and Edward shuffling his feet.

"You not going to class?" he asks in an exhale.

I shake my head, still focused on my destroyed nail.

"I can drive you home if you want."

My head jerks up to stare at him at this. His face is smooth and expressionless. I try and decipher any lurking emotions behind his eyes, but these too are impassive. So I nod slowly.

He flashes me a smile, and opens the passenger door for me. I slide in as gracefully as I possibly can, which isn't very considering I'm so wet from the rain. He slams the door behind me and makes his way over to the driver's seat, easing into it in one swift motion.

He turns on the radio, and peels out of the parking lot.

"I like your t shirt again by the way," he says, slicing the silence in two.

I glance down at it, my Clash concert tee. He glances at me, and I smile and nod my thanks awkwardly.

"You have good taste in music," he says quietly. "Do you wanna choose something from my iPod? It's in the side pocket."

I look at him as he says this, before turning to grab his iPod.

Scrolling through, I have to hand it to him – he's got good taste. ACDC, the Kinks, Led Zeppelin, the Beatles, the Stones, the Clash, the Smiths, Aretha Franklin, Otis Redding, Van Morrison, Bob Dylan, Leonard Cohen... A lot of modern stuff too – Bat For Lashes, Beck, Band of Horses, Florence and the Machine, Beirut, Yeah Yeah Yeahs, the XX, White Stripes, Dead Weather, the Kills...

"You approve?" he asks.

I nod my head emphatically, and choose 'The Ghost Inside' by Broken Bells.

"Good choice," he murmurs. "Did you know that the singer is the singer for this other band called the Shins?"

I nod, smiling.

"They're good," he says, smiling too.

The rest of the drive is silent, as I continue picking songs.

When we pull up at my house, the rain has stopped, and some rays of sunshine are breaking through the clouds. I smile as the sun hits my face. Edward gets out the car with me, and I frown at him in confusion.

"Checking your car, remember?" he says, pointing to my dead truck.

I smile, remembering, and gesture that it's all his. I sit on the top step leading up to my front porch, watching as he pops the hood of the car.

"So, you're from Phoenix right?" he asks, craning his head to see my response. I nod, wondering how he knows this.

"Alice," he shrugs, returning to the engine. "Okay, try starting the car..."

I slide into the front seat, and turn the key in the ignition, smiling happily when it roars to life.

"Great!" Edward exclaims, shutting the hood, "That was easier than I thought. This thing's just old and rusty," he laughs.

I mock glare at him, which just makes him laugh harder.

Finally, his laughter dies down, and he leans against the engine to look at me. I'm caught by his gaze, unable to understand the various emotions shifting across his face. He seems to be searching me for something. Finally, he seems to find what he was looking for, and breathes in.

"So, I was wondering," he begins, staring at me intensely, "Seeing as we seem to have such similar musical tastes, maybe you'd like to go see Bon Iver with me this weekend?"

My mouth drops open, but Edward goes on, either unaware of my dumbfounded expression, or just ignoring it.

"He's playing down in Seattle on Saturday," he continues, before pausing, and biting his lip. He smiles a lazy half grin, and looks at his hands resting on the hood briefly before raising his eyes to me. "So, what do you think?"

I wonder, if under different circumstances – say, if this were an over the phone conversation – I'd have the strength to say no. Because right now, with Edward looking up at me from under his long eye lashes with his intense emerald green eyes, his lip caught between his teeth, the corner of his mouth raised, I know I can't say no. Despite the fact that my body is screaming at me to say no, defences raised, I just can't.

So I nod slowly. And wonder what the hell I've gotten myself into.

After he's gone, and those beautiful green eyes are no longer convincingly imploring, I'm able to think a little clearer. What the hell was I thinking? Well, I know what I was thinking, I was thinking about his beautiful mouth, and beautiful eyes, and hot body leaning over my non-hot car... But what if this was a trick? What if it was a ruse? What did he want from me? Was there some unknown motive lurking there?

I couldn't escape the thoughts that twisted and twirled through my brain, trying to knock some sense into me. Because really, why on earth would Edward Cullen want to hang out with me?

I decide to have a bath – one of my favourite therapy motions. I run the water as hot as I can bear, and pour the bubble liquid into it, lighting some scented candles around the room. The sun is still out, and drifts through the small window, giving the bathroom a warm, orange glow. I place my iPod on some speakers by the door, and play Bon Iver.

And as I slide into the blistering heat, I think to myself – well who cares if he has ulterior motives? This is Bon Iver we're talking about for fuck's sake. Just go, enjoy the concert, and try your best not to crush too much on your companion.

And as Bon Iver sings to me, I lose myself in his melodic tones.

_Well I've been twisting to the sun and the moon_

_I needed to replace_

_The fountain in the front yard is rusted out_

_All my love was down_

_In a frozen ground... _

* * *

Fall is probably my favourite season. I can't stand the cold of winter, the rain of spring, the unwavering heat of summer... But fall, with its tumbling leaves of all different colours that remind me of the various cycles of life, is so beautiful... In a way, the seasons reflect the cycle of love – we lose our leaves, our courage, our love, we suffer through a long cold winter reminiscing the beauty of our love, we recover and grow new petals that reflect our naïve youth, forgetting the heartbreak of a few months ago, ride high on the dizzying heat of new love... before crashing down, broken, leaves falling yet again.

Ever since my mother left, my father has been in an eternal winter, metaphorically. The brightness she sparked in him left entirely when she did, and he's been shivering in the cold ever since. He still hasn't grown his petals, and by the looks of things, probably never will.

But I can always hope... For him, because I know there's no hope for me. It's so vitally important that I never let myself in that deep, that I never get to the point in a relationship where I'm too far gone to pull away – because he will instead, realizing I'm broken, and that the most beautiful part of a relationship, the intimacy, is impossible with me. I yearn for that – the closeness, the warmth and intimacy and comfort. I read about it in my books, and see it in movies, and hear it through love songs, and I wish... I just wish.

I've never had a crush on a guy. During early adolescence, I was too dedicated to having a relationship with my mother to think about much else – caring for her was a full time occupation. But when Phil entered the picture, I thought to myself, well now I can think about that kind of thing.

But no. He got to me before I could get that far.

There's one thing I am grateful for... He never kissed me. Which means, I still have that little innocence left. I've had fantasies about kissing someone. The gentle soft touch... None of them have ever involved anyone. Always an undefined face, a stranger. But I'm almost not surprised when the stranger morphs into a face I recognize well.

Imagining that I'm kissing Edward seems to give me a lot more pleasure than when it was an unknown. Just thinking about it gives me goose bumps, shortens my breath slightly, and has me aching slightly all over, _yearning..._

I'd never touched myself before – in that way.

But in the bath, thinking about Edward, and his face, his eyes, his lips... I do. And the pleasure that courses over me is slow and long and unknown. I've never experienced that before. I get out the bath tingling all over, my legs shaky, face flushed. And looking at myself in the mirror, I see someone foreign – innocence and quiet discovery is written all over me. My hair tumbles in curls from the humid bath down my back, my face is pink – from the bath, and from my recent ministrations, my eyes bright and full of mischief. I've just awakened something in myself that I'd never felt before, and made the discovery that touching myself like that doesn't remind me of him. It makes me wonder – maybe there's hope after all? But then I repress the thought – just because I touched myself doesn't mean anyone else can. Remember Jasper? And another voice retaliates quietly, but Jasper was rough, maybe if the guy was gentle...? I shove the thoughts away again into the back of my mind, and instead dress quietly, slowly coming down from my high, and trying to return to my vague sense of normalcy by cooking Charlie dinner.

Outside the kitchen window, the leaves are falling in droves.

* * *

The next few days are a blur.

I go to school as usual, but apart from the act of going itself, that's the only usual thing about it.

Alice, Edward and Emmett have eaten with me practically every day this week. Not only that, but I've found that I'm never without someone by my side. It's usually Alice, but sometimes it's Edward or Emmett. And Rosalie is scarce – I pass her occasionally in the hall, but her presence has vanished from the cafeteria, and there have been no confrontations since the last one. Jasper's vanished completely, but it's no big secret he comes and goes to school as he likes, so his absence isn't such a big deal. The ice queen being scarce though? She usually loves the centre of attention, so it's strange seeing her fly quietly under the radar. It's almost intentional. It has me slightly worried, but the feeling passes as I gradually forget about her. I also discover I have a class with Emmett – History, and we spend the entire class passing notes and joking. The whole week is a mixture of foreign feelings and experiences, which is probably why it passes so quickly, and why before I know it, it's Saturday. The day of the concert.

Edward checks with me the day before to check we're still on, and we exchange numbers to get in touch. So I'm currently sitting in front of my wardrobe, debating what to wear like the lame ass I am. I'm blushing since the fact that I'm actually giving some thought to my clothes because of a guy is embarrassing. And what's even more embarrassing is the fact that I actually checked the weather in Seattle to see if I could get away with maybe wearing a skirt. A skirt. A fucking skirt. Thank god it's too cold and wet, because me wearing a skirt is just fucking humiliating. Not just for Edward, but for me.

So I slip into a pair of black tight skinny jeans, a white vest, and a checked red shirt that I tie around my waist. I throw on a Blackheart records hoodie, and slip on my fanciest shoes – a pair of black Adidas classic Sambas. I fell madly in love with the shoes when I was sixteen, saved up the money to buy a pair, and only bring them out on special occasions. Which is why they're not muddied and worn like my other sneakers.

I grab my leather jacket off my bed, and pat my pockets to feel I have my keys, phone, wallet, and cigarettes – ever since my encounter with Jasper, I've fallen back onto a half a pack a day.

I take a deep breath to calm my nerves, because now comes the biggest and scariest part of tonight – getting past Charlie. I walk downstairs slowly, so as not to appear too excited, and follow the sounds of a baseball game on the flat screen. Sure enough, my dad is reclined on the sofa, beer in hand, fixated on the TV.

I clear my throat to get his attention. His head swivels and zeroes in on me, dressed to go out.

"Heya Bells..." he mumbles, brow furrowed. "You going out?"

I nod and scratch my head.

"With Alice?" he asks.

I shake my head.

"Another friend?"

I nod.

"Okay then."

I raise my eyes from their mark on the floor to stare up at my dad, who's already returned his gaze to the television. I gape slightly at his blasé attitude, before deciding to go before he changes his mind. I kiss him briefly on the head before making my way to the front porch, sitting on the steps there and waiting for Edward.

He said three – giving us a good three hours to get there, and time to grab a bite to eat. It's five to, and I don't have to wait long for him – he pulls in at exactly three o'clock. I smile nervously, and hop in.

Once the door is closed, I wave awkwardly. He just laughs and swoops in to give me a quick kiss on the cheek. My cheek burns and so does the rest of me, and once again I ask myself – what the hell am I doing?

* * *

"We're going to drive through Port Angeles, Sequim and Kingston where we'll take the ferry over to Edmonds," Edward tells me as we speed down the highway. "It's roughly a thirty minute cross on the ferry, and it'll take us about an hour and three quarters to get to Kingston."

I nod, already knowing this. I'd done my research to check how we'd be getting there and how long it would take. And I'd calculated that if the gig started at seven thirty and finished by ten thirty at the latest, then I wouldn't get home till one at the earliest. Thank God Charlie hadn't set a curfew...

"So, we've a long trip," Edward finishes, flashing me a smile and gesturing to the side pocket. "Choose us some good road trip music?"

I grin.

Over the drive, we interact very little. I know it's because I can't speak to him that we hardly converse. And it bothers me, because Edward strikes me as an interesting person. He has got a 4.0 GPA after all, and comes across as intelligent and knowing. As having opinions. What I miss most about my mother are the conversations and the debates. It was unlikely you'd ever come across anyone as opinionated as my mother – and on a broad range of subjects. She'd always encouraged me, ever since I was little, to develop my own opinions and beliefs. So I'd grown up interested in politics and culture and the arts. I'd formed many opinions on various different things, and Renee and I would discuss them together. Sometimes we'd agree and sometimes we'd disagree. But what I loved was the fact that she'd push me to prove myself and why I liked or disliked something. It made my feel grown up and individual. And she always told me: 'It's important to be an individual, Bella'.

I believe that your opinions and beliefs are important. They're what define you, make you who you are, dictate your actions, and separate you from everyone else. And it's rare to come across someone my age who believes in – anything. But having witnessed Edward in debate class last year convinced me that here was someone with opinions. And I wished I could talk to him about them.

So instead we drive in silence, and I turn the music up loudly to fill it.

When we pull on to the ferry at Kingston, I've just switched to 'No You Girls Never Know' by Franz Ferdinand. I'm trying to play feel good music to stop myself brooding over my speechlessness.

Once we're on, we both get out the car and I lean against the side of the hood. Edward ambles over to lean on the same side as me, and I pull out my pack of cigarettes. He raises an eyebrow, but pulls out his own pack and a lighter. I gesture for the lighter, so he flicks the flame, and I lean towards it. As I wait for it to light, I look up at Edward who's watching me with a look that's become all too familiar over the past few days – an intense gaze that suggests he's almost trying to figure me out.

Finally, the smoke fills my lungs, and I pull away gratefully. The proximity was too much.

We stand side by side quietly, our smoky breath mingling together. He shifts slightly, and his arm is pressing against mine. I can feel the heat radiating off him through my four layers, and the warmth of it makes me shiver.

"Cold?" he asks, mistaking my shiver.

Before I can even answer, he has an arm thrown over my shoulders, and is drawing me to him. And my reaction is instinctive – I lean into his embrace, as he rubs his hand up and down my arm in a futile attempt to warm me up. Because right now, in this position, my body feels almost over heated at being so close to him.

"Better?" he asks quietly, breathing the word over the top of my head.

And then I do the worst thing possible in this situation – I turn my head to look up at him, and meet his usual intense gaze. Except his face is so close. So unbelievably close, I feel his hot and cigarette filled breath fanning over me. So close I can see the tiny speckles of hazel in his emerald green eyes. So close, when his tongue pokes out to wet his top lip, any further out and it would have grazed mine.

When I raise my eyes back to his from his lips, the expression in them has changed. There's a distinctive shift in the atmosphere. The tension is palpable, and I'm not ignorant enough to be unaware as to what kind of tension this is. It's undeniable sexual tension, and it's rolling off the both of us in waves.

Edward seems to make the decision before me, and slowly lowers his lips to mine, his eyes on me the whole time. But when our lips first touch, his and mine slide close, and I recall to mind my thinking of kissing Edward earlier this week in the bath, and almost scoff – because kissing Edward is so much better than I'd fantasized.

His lips are soft, and gentle, and wet from his tongue constantly running over them. His lower lip is slightly fuller than his top lip, and I feel the difference as I suck on it whilst his attention is on my top one. Our lips slide over each other once, twice, three times, four... I lose count. His arm is still wrapped around my shoulders, but he shifts slowly till he's pressed against me, moving one hand to the back of my head to grip my hair and the other to cup my face gently.

And I thank my lucky stars that _he_ didn't steal this from me, because having my first kiss from Edward is just too perfect.

I clutch his jacket with one hand to draw him closer to me, finding the back of his neck with the other, and run my hand through his soft hair. And then his tongue is running along my lips, and I automatically open them, our tongues clashing and fighting to get into the other's mouth. He wins the battle, and slides his tongue around the warmth of my mouth and around my tongue over and over again. It's a beautiful dance, and one that's only interrupted when my need for breath overtakes my desperate want to keep kissing him, so I pull away gasping. Edward moves his mouth from my mouth, to my jaw, to my neck, where he licks and sucks on my pulse point till I'm gasping with my head thrown back. I know immediately he'll leave a mark, but I've hardly time to register this before his mouth is back on mine.

We spend the rest of the ferry ride acquainting our mouths with each other. We move from deep open mouthed kisses to soft gentle pecks to neck sucking to deep open mouthed kisses... The cycle repeats itself over and over, and we find a rhythm. Edward's hands remain rooted in my hair, running his hands through and through it till it's no more than a tangled mess, while the other alternates between holding my neck, face and hand. He's still got me pressed against the car, but our lower bodies remain slightly distant, almost purposefully. And the fact that I'm easy at his touch whereas I usually wouldn't be is a little detail I file away for future mulling over.

By the time the ferry ride is over, people are looking at us and once I get back into the car and glimpse my reflection I know why. As I'd predicted, my hair is a mess, my lips are throbbing and swollen leaving no question as to their recent actions, my eyes are half closed and bright, and my cheeks carry a heavy flush. But most of all, I notice the four massive hickeys on my neck. One is just above my collar bone, the other on my pulse point, the other near the base of my ear, and the other directly underneath it.

Naturally I gasp as the sight.

"What? What is it?"

Edward's voice is gruff and slightly hoarse, a result of having my tongue stuck down his throat for the better part of the last thirty minutes. The sound of it makes me want to stick it right back down his throat, but instead I point at my neck.

Edward smiles at the sight, and looks down at his lap.

"Sorry," he says, shrugging, and I know he's not sorry at all.

I just shake my head and sigh, but there's a small smile gracing my lips as well.

I expect the rest of the car ride to be awkward, but surprisingly it isn't. It's quiet but peaceful, and I play quiet music as we drive down to Seattle – namely the XX. Edward hums his approval.

The sun is setting slowly, and its red and orange rays have us both pulling out our sunglasses against the sun. He asks me to pull his out of his jacket pocket, which I do – and laugh when I realize we have the same pair, black wayfarer Ray Bans. He smiles at this. The highway is not desperately busy, and with Edward's speedy driving that I'm slowly getting used to, we smoothly make our way to Seattle by six.

The city is urban – what you'd expect – and sprawling and rather lovely in the setting sun's light. Dark clouds lie here and there, but it's clear that it's just rained rather than about to rain. We drive through big puddles on the roads and trees drip large drops of water on the windscreen as we wait for the lights to change.

"We're parking in a car park not too far from the venue," he tells me as the lights go green.

He winds his way around the back streets and I wish I could ask him how he knows his way so well. But he seems to sense my curiosity for he says suddenly:

"Alice, Emmett and my mum used to live in Seattle before they moved back to Forks," he tells me, pulling into a car park and grabbing a ticket. "I used to drive down to visit them a lot on the weekends."

I nod in understanding as we pull into a spot. He kills the engine, and we slide out the car simultaneously. He comes around towards me since the exit to the street is on my side, and jogs a little to catch up with me. I just reach the door when he takes my hand, and has me pressed against the wall in a matter of seconds. His lips are on mine before I have time to register the new position, but once they are, I sink into his gradually all too familiar embrace.

He pulls away after a few minutes, and throws me a smile.

"I don't think we should go long periods of time without doing that," he tells me with a grin, opening the exit door, and pulling me gently behind him.

My mind is still reeling from the suddenness of his kiss, and soon we're down the few flight of stairs and out on the street. Edward throws his arm around my shoulders, and looks down at me, still grinning.

"So, Bella. Are you ready to have the time of your life?"

* * *

**AN: Hope you guys liked it! Please review!**

**And QUESTION for reviewers: who do you guys think Bella keeps talking about that hurt her and rendered her mute?**


	5. Chapter 4

I'M SO SORRY! This isn't another update, and I'm sorry for posting this chapter twice, and giving you all even more false hope! I'm ridiculously sorry... But thanks for all the fab reviews! I'm almost at 100, which is pretty amazing! The main purpose of reposting this chapter originally was to let everyone know that I'm now on Twitter: LarissaElenaS I'll be tweeting my progress with the story, leaving some previews ;-) and answering any questions you might have. And of course, if you guys have any suggestions - you can let me know! Enjoy! And if you go to twitter and can't find me, go back again later, because it's a new account, and it takes a while to register me. Anyway!

4

**AN: I am so sorry for the ridiculously appalling wait I've put you guys through! There's no excuse for it, except an absurd bout of writer's block. I was seriously suffering from a drought of creative juices! But here it is anyway. Bella's a bit all over the place guys, and she will be for a while. She's just been thrown into a completely different situation to the one she's been used to, and she's experiencing all this stuff with no chance to breathe. So her emotions are just all over the place. But stay with her please, and ride it out with me! **

**And by the way - I finally have a Beta! So many thanks to livelovelaughalot for editing and whipping my chapter into shape!**

**I hope you guys enjoy it, and again, forgive all of the below! **

I have an intense love/hate relationship with any songs, books and movies that touch on romance. Because hearing, reading or seeing a couple who are just _so_ in love... makes me hunger for that. I want to fall head over heels in love with someone who'll love me back just as intensely. Who'll make my heart skip a beat every time I see him, and flutter every time he touches me – whether it's a simple touch of the hand or a full blown make out session. Someone who I'll grow old with.

And all those romantic songs, books and movies just rub salt in the wound – because I know I can't have that.

Which is why after my evening with Edward, it feels like someone's poured lemon juice, salt and vinegar in the wound, because I got a taste of what I know I can't have. A relationship.

Edward took me to a sushi bar – my first ever sushi bar. I was excited to say the least, and having his hand holding mine had nothing to do with that (of course not). Whilst we ate, I almost felt as though we were playing twenty questions. Except it was more like a hundred. And being the considerate person I've gradually been getting to know, Edward only asked me yes and no questions.

My only regret was that I was unable to ask him any questions.

The concert was brilliant. There aren't enough words to describe the brilliance. I've never been to a concert before, but I'm glad Bon Iver was my first. Because although I'd love to go see a band such as Kings of Leon – where the energy is so vibrant it's reverberating off everything tenfold – I loved the quiet energy of Bon Iver's sinuous tones. There were no electric guitars, loud drums or heavy bass beat, but there was no need – you could feel his passion and his meaning in every word and note that came from him and his guitar.

Edward plays the guitar. He'd recognized the make of Bon Iver's, and I'd silently gestured to ask if he played. He'd ducked his head, shrugged, and mumbled 'a bit'. I felt the frissons shudder up my body at this seemingly insignificant and yet so meaningful detail about him – a musician. It made me want to smile and cry at the same time.

Mum used to play the guitar.

After the concert, we'd returned to the car pack in silence, his arm casually wrapped around me, me nuzzling into him as the wind whistled and bit my cheeks. And then once in the car and back on the road, I fell asleep. The next thing I knew, Edward was gently rousing me to signal we were back home. I'd blinked around, disorientated, before gathering it was time to go, so I'd clumsily kissed his cheek, and stumbled my way inside the house, dead on my feet.

I let myself in, and as soon as I was in my room, had promptly collapsed on the bed and fallen into a deep slumber, dreaming of Edward's touch and things that could never be.

* * *

"Bella. Bella? BELLS!"

I grumbled and whined internally, and rolled over only to fall with a thud on the floor.

"Bells? You okay in there? Decent?"

I gathered myself up from the floor and slowly limped my way to the door, cracking it open to reveal my dad.

"Ah. Good morning." He glanced at my warily. "I think."

I raised an eyebrow at him, silently asking him to get on with it. He shook his head and cleared his throat before speaking.

"So, ah, I didn't hear you get in last night," he mumbles, flicking an invisible speck of dust off his t shirt. "Late night date?"

I frown. He glances up to gauge my reaction, and takes an automatic step backwards at the look on my face.

"Right, not a date then, clearly..." he says, lifting his hands up in surrender. "Have fun though? What did you guys do?"

I tap my ears.

"Concert?" he smiles. "Cool, who?"

I shrug and shake my head, indicating it's no one he'll know.

"Cool, then," he says, and we stand there awkwardly for a minute. "Right, then, I'm, er... gonna go see Billy Black."

And then he's shuffling off, and a few seconds later I hear the door slam. Silence reigns once more, and I sigh, before traipsing to the bathroom. I look a mess. I'm still wearing the clothes I was wearing the night before, and my eyes have dark circles under them – a combination of smudged mascara and lack of sleep. My hair's in a tangle, and I feel slightly grimy, so I decide to have a shower and clean up.

As I stand under the searing hot water, the steam swirling around me and fogging up every surface in sight, my brain goes over the previous night. It works at a furiously fast pace, remembering his touch and the feel of his lips on mine. In hindsight, and without Edward's frustratingly distracting presence near me, I am able to go over each memory and analyze it. He touched me – and god, did he touch me... He certainly knew what he was doing. Practice...? And then, through the cloudy veil of new found contentment that had been hovering over my mind since Alice befriended me, two faces emerged: _him, _and Rosalie Hale.

Why did I not react to his touch? Why did I not flinch, feel repulsed, frightened, threatened? I recalled Jasper's rough grasp earlier this week and how I had flinched away from that. So what was different with Edward? He was... gentle. Passionate... Caring. His touch was sweet, and soft, and sunk right to my bones. Did my body make the automatic distinction between _his_ abrasive touch and Edward's gentle one, recognizing the lack of threat from the latter? But... Edward might not be a threat to my body – but what about my mind?

The heat makes me feel dizzy, so I finish rinsing out my hair and step carefully out of the shower – too many times have I slipped and fallen in this bathroom. I dry off, and throw my hair into a bun, traipsing back to my bedroom.

As I ponder what to wear, the second face returns. Rosalie. I'd forgotten her. Are she and Edward still together? Is this a conspiracy between them to toy with mute Bella Swan? Does she know? If she doesn't, what will she do when she finds out...? I know none of these questions will be answered for the moment, so I file them away for future pondering, and pull out a pair of straight jeans, a grey t shirt, and an over-the-head navy hoodie.

It's Saturday, which usually means very little to me – laundry day, return and borrow more books from the library, and loll about doing nothing. But today I actually have homework to do as well – something that rarely occurs, as I usually complete it during lunch periods at school or on Friday evening. But with my newly acquired friends, and newly busy social life, I have two essays to finish off before Monday.

So, I settle down with my computer, geeky glasses, and mug of steaming coffee, and crack onto dramatic irony in Romeo and Juliet.

* * *

Three hours, four cups of coffee and twenty three pages later, I'm finished. I shut down the computer, slide off my glasses and rub my eyes and temples, a headache beginning to pound at the sides of my head. I sigh, and check my watch. It's three twenty, which means I have enough time to do laundry, and go to the library before it closes.

A sad development has occurred in the past week at home: our washing machine decided to have a death. So by three thirty, I'm dragging a basket full of laundry to my car, and heading off to the only Laundromat in Forks. The air is slightly warmer than usual, so I permit myself the luxury of rolling down the front windows, listening to the Stones. I arrive at the small Laundromat halfway through 'Gimme Shelter'. Parking the car across the road, I notice there seems to be no one inside – score. No old dears staring at me weirdly when I refuse to talk about their cats.

I slip my sunglasses on, and pull my basket of washing off the passenger seat, ambling across the road. I've never been to the Laundromat here before. So it takes me a good fifteen minutes to work the thing out. Finally though, it seems to be washing my first load, and I settle down on the bench, pulling out my iPod and a book.

Nothing like a good book to pass the time.

"_You deserve this..."_

_A harsh rough phrase repeated over and over. I'm trying to regain my bearings, pull through the thick blanket of darkness that swept over me. And once I do, I wish I hadn't. I manage to look down at what he's doing, to me, to my body, and want to be sick. I can't feel it though... Maybe that's a good thing... _

"_You're so easy, Isabella..." he whispers roughly in my ear. "And you know why..." he continues, still moving above me. _

_I shake my head, tears spilling out the corner of my eyes as I look up at my ceiling, swallowing the bile that rises to my throat with every shift of his body. _

"_Because you enjoy this..." he laughs, short hard pants. "You love the way I make you feel... And only me, Isabella. Only me."_

_I can feel it now. Every movement he makes. His voice is clearer too. _

"_Bella... Bella... Bella... _Bella? Bella...? Bella!"

The voice and movement of someone's hand rubbing my arm jerks me back to reality. I shove the arm away, and try to move backwards, only to find that I can't – I'm lying on the bench, my book lying crumpled on the floor. I bolt upright, and stare into the face of the person who woke me.

It's Jasper Hale.

What is Jasper Hale doing at the Laundromat?

"Hey." He grins, but his gaze is steely.

I sigh, and run my hands through my hair, then over my face, trying to wake myself up. Jasper leans against one of the machines, still watching me. Feeling his stare, I raise my eyes as if to say: 'what?' He just chuckles.

"I can see you're in a great mood," he says, to which I just roll my eyes.

I'm in no great mood, my nightmare still lingering in my mind. I pull myself up off the bench, stretch, and check the machine. Seeing it's finished, I pull out the clothes, and dump them back in my basket. Grabbing my iPod and long forgotten book, I start to make my way to the door.

"Hey!" Jasper is in front of me in a matter of seconds. He grins. "Weren't planning on leaving me, were you?"

I raise my eyebrow at him.

"Wait until I finish my load at least," he says, exaggerating a pout. Seeing I'm not going to budge, he sighs. "Alright, well let me take you for a drive whilst my load goes, and then I'll bring you back here to get your car."

I obviously don't look convinced, as he feels the need for more convincing and borderline pleading.

"Please? C'mon, it's a beautiful day," he says, pointing outside – and he's right, the sun has come through, "It'd be a shame to waste it."

I bop my leg slightly, indecision making me waver. Taking advantage of this, Jasper grabs my basket, placing it on the floor, grabs my hand, and pulls me out the Laundromat. And then I'm sitting in his car – which I don't think I've ever seen before – and we're driving off into the sunset, literally. I'm not quite sure what I'm more surprised by, the car or the fact that I'm in it with Jasper Hale; but I content myself with stroking the interior softly.

"You like it?" he asks, glancing at my wandering hand.

A vintage Aston Martin convertible? I _love _it. But I settle for nodding emphatically. And then I notice the music. And I'm even more confused. I gesture to the stereo, a question clear in my eyes and expression. Jasper chuckles upon seeing it, before glancing back to the road.

"Thought I'd be solely a rock'n'roll guy?" he assumes – correctly. "Nah, I dig Leonard Cohen."

I stare at him, as he stares at the road, and slowly, a smile spreads across my face. Speeding down the 101 North, the sun glistens brightly orange as it slowly approaches the horizon, the wind whips my hair behind me. It doesn't cross my mind to ask him where we're going. He's driving with purpose, which suggests he has a destination in mind, but the fact that I don't know doesn't bother me. My mind briefly jumps back to that encounter on the bleachers, but I dismiss the thought. For once, I want to do something on the spur of the moment... I want to just enjoy the moment...

So I slowly raise my arms up and behind me, letting my head fall back, and close my eyes, relishing the feeling. And Jasper doesn't say anything – which is perfect too. The silence filled only with soft guitar playing.

Half an hour later, the sun is just touching the horizon, and we're parked in the lot by the beach in La Push. Leonard Cohen still sings for us, and the silence still rests between us. It's so beautiful, the scene fills me with a kind of calm. I feel at peace, even if it's just for a moment.

Jasper pulls something out of his pocket, but I'm transfixed by the burnt orange sun. Only when I hear the click of a lighter do I realize what he's holding, and I turn my head to search out a cigarette. He offers me one, and when I nod, he places it lightly between my lips, before lighting it for me. The flame glows to match the sunset, and I smile around the cancer stick. Once lit, I move to pull away, but Jasper drapes an arm around me, and keeps me fixed to his side. I rest my head on his shoulder, and return my gaze this time to the sea, the ripples causing the sun's reflection to twinkle and dance.

"It's beautiful, huh," Jasper says, his deep throaty voice rupturing the silence, and yet pleasantly rather than disturbingly. I nod against him.

And then the song changes, and the mood shifts, and I begin to move away. But Jasper manages to catch my hand before I've completely shifted back to my seat, and the jerky movement he uses to yank me back to him is a complete contrast to the feeling of his face so close to mine, and his other hand – rough and abrasive – cupping my cheek, drawing me to him until our lips meet.

It's hardly a kiss. It's lips brushing. We separate, but still a mere inch apart, and Jasper's lip is pulled up slightly in the corner, indicating a small smile. And his eyes are on my lips, and mine are on his eyes, as he says:

"See," a whisper, "I can be gentle too."

And then I can't help but focus on the lyrics of the song, and he's singing:

_I met a woman long ago_

_Her hair, the black that black can go,_

_Are you a teacher of the heart?_

_Soft, she answered 'No'_

And I watch the expression in Jasper's eyes as he watches the word my lips form but do not utter:

"No."

I smile slightly, sadly, and kiss his cheek, before returning to my seat, turning the music up and taking a drag off my cigarette.

The sun's almost down.

* * *

There's no awkwardness following my minute kiss with Jasper. He just sighed, and we finished our cigarettes in silence. The atmosphere had changed again though, and was filled with a disappointed tension.

I did not know what Jasper wanted, nor why he wanted it. But I knew my small rejection would not keep him away forever – I was sure we'd be seeing more of each other. Hopefully I'd found out his motives soon. He dropped me off by my car at the Laundromat as promised, and I left him with another brief kiss on the cheek. He just gave me a sad smile, and I felt his eyes on me as I left. Driving home in the dark, the washing starting to emit a slightly damp smell beside me, I felt reality once again start to sink through the cloudy surreal haze that had been surrounding the past few days. Tomorrow was Sunday, and the day after would be Monday, and who knew what Monday would bring...? I could only wait for the rest of the weekend to pass, and bury myself in book after book after book, secretly hoping the fantasy worlds I read about would swallow me whole, and I would never have to face reality again.

* * *

I'm not sure what it is that changed over the weekend, but somewhere amid having an intense kissing fest with Edward Cullen, and sharing a brief kiss with Jasper Hale, I've started feeling a slight knot in my stomach every morning before school starts. It's like a little ball of nerves, that gets bigger and bigger as the clock ticks slowly forward towards my impending doom. Because being snogged senseless by Edward Cullen and romanced by Jasper Hale – albeit unsuccessfully – cannot come to any good in the aftermath. So, like the coward I am, I put my off going to school until the very last minute, hoping that in the process I will avoid all the people contributing to my present emotional dilemma.

So I drive to school slowly, and when I arrive, there's no one in the parking lot. The heavens start to open up slowly, and rain spits at me. I glare at the sky, and slowly amble towards the front doors. If I'm already late, no point in rushing right?

'This is a first.'

I start, and spin to find the source of the voice – a voice I'd recognize anywhere now.

He's leaning against the wall, crouched down, apparently tying the laces on his shoes. And my heart starts to race. Glancing up at me from under his lashes, kneeling before me, literally, droplets of water glinting in his insane bronze hair, his eyes twinkling with some unidentified emotion at me, I'm lost to him. I do nothing but stare, and his mouth lifts slightly. He rises slowly, and my eyes follow the line of his body unravelling as he does so. That dangerously enticing lifted corner of his mouth raises more as he seems to notice my eyes follow him. He's wearing a simple grey tshirt, that is just the right amount of tight and loose, a black leather jacket slung over his shoulder, black slightly faded jeans slung low on his hips, and my eyes finally come to rest on his shoes. And holy hell, he's wearing the same shoes I am. Black adidas sambas. Possibly my favourite shoes ever.

He registers our matching shoes at the same time I do, and chuckles, running a hand through his hair, looking away for a second, seemingly frustrated.

When he turns to me again, he takes a step closer, eyes trained on my feet. He comes to a stop right in front of me, and our breath mingles together. He finally raises his eyes to mine.

'Look at that,' he whispers, his delicious mint and tobacco and unique Edward breath fanning over me. 'We match'.

And then his lips are on mine and its Friday night all over again.

* * *

I was seriously late for class. Edward and I parted half way through first period. I stumbled to my class, lips bruised, panting, and dazed. And when I looked in the mirror before lunch, I realised it wasn't surprising why everyone had been gaping at me. I looked thoroughly snogged. My lips were swollen and red, my hair a tangle from Edward's hands running through it repeatedly, and my shirt askew. I splashed some cold water on my face – which in hindsight did absolutely nothing – straightened my shirt, and tried to tame my hair (failing). Giving up, I left the bathroom to find Alice tapping her shoe impatiently, apparently waiting for me.

'Finally! God, I've been waiting for forever! We have so much to talk about! Firstly, where the hell were you all weekend? Apart from Friday night of course... By the way what did you wear that night? You have to tell me what happened! Edward gave one of his extremely annoying 'mind your own business' answers when I asked. Well, he didn't say that exactly, but something to that effect. He is so annoying like that, I mean the other day – '

'Christ Pix, let the girl breathe,' a voice drawled from behind her.

Standing towering almost a foot above her, was Jasper. He grinned at me over Alice's head, while Alice spun around right into his chest. He chuckled, and steadied her. I moved to her side, and hid a smile as I watched Alice try to glare at him. It just looked slightly silly.

'Look here, dude,' she began, poking his chest with a brightly painted turquoise nail, 'How many times do I have to tell you not to call me Pix?'

Jasper just glanced to me, a twinkle in his eye.

'Don't you think its appropriate Bella?' he asks me, grinning. I glare at him, simultaneously biting a smile. 'C'mon, you gotta side with me, otherwise Pix is gonna stay pissed at me! Which is just all wrong, cause I was coming here to ask you guys if you'd like an escort to the cafeteria.'

'An escort?' Alice squeaked. 'We are independent young ladies, excuse me...'

I tuned Alice and Jasper's bantering out as we slowly made our way together to the cafeteria, despite Alice's objections to Jasper's accompanying us. I was more focused on what was coming. Jasper was one less thing I had to worry about – I had been worried that things would be awkward, but he'd winked and thrown me his usual grin when I'd seen him in Chemistry this morning, so things seemed alright. Jasper was simultaneous enigmatic – I thought back to his weird arm grabbing on the bleachers, the kiss at La Push – and easy going. He managed to give me things to worry about, and yet his nature just erased that worry afterwards. I filed every confusing thought I'd had about him away though, hoping that sometime in the future – when I wasn't so nervously twisted about Edward – we'd be able to work the out, but for now, I was okay not knowing what went on in his head.

I was just desperate to know what went on in Edward's head.

Best case scenario... He's in the cafeteria, and we what? Kiss and show we're a happy couple in front of the entire population of Forks High and live happily ever after? No. That shit only happens in movies. Best case scenario... We pretend like everything is normal. And no one knows any better. Rosalie doesn't come murder me in my sleep, Jasper doesn't do something weird again, Alice doesn't pester me with questions, and all is well in the world. For lunch at least.

But I can't hope that's what happens. There are a lot of 'worst case scenarios' that I'm not even prepared to contemplate, and because I can't read the future, I settle for chewing half my nail off as the doors to the cafeteria seem to get bigger and bigger, looming overhead.

I feel like we're moving in slow motion, as Jasper goes to open the door for Alice, Alice giggling at something he says, while he makes some extravagantly gallant motion for us to go in first, and then the hustle and bustle of the cafeteria engulfs us. And the sound of girls and boys talking and chatting and laughing seems to ring in my ears, and I'm frozen, rooted to the spot, Alice and Jasper dancing ahead of me. I can hear my own heartbeat pounding.

And just as quickly as the slow motion comes, it goes. But I'm still rooted and frozen, staring at our now usual seats, where Edward is half hidden by Rosalie, his hand on the small of her back as she shoves her tongue down his throat.

'Bella?'

I jump at Alice's gentle voice, starting me out of my staring. She's staring at me, confused.

'Are you okay?'

I just shake my head to rid it of the image that's now burned forever into my brain, and into my heart it seems. I force a smile, and shrug, and take her hand as we line up in the lunch queue.

Jasper hasn't noticed anything it seems, busy arguing and flirting with the lunch lady, and I quickly glance around to see if anyone has noticed my little episode. But people are too wrapped up in their own spheres to notice me clutching the remains of a wounded heart.

And I don't know if Alice had actually noticed the reason for my episode, or if she just didn't want to have to witness her brother's snogging session, but for the first time since Alice and Emmett arrived, we sit somewhere else.

* * *

Looking back, 'a wounded heart' may have sounded slightly over the top. But I'm not trying to make out like I was in love with him or anything. Because I wasn't. But I had let him into my mind, and a little into my heart. He, and Alice, and Emmett, and Jasper had invaded my mind and heart, and each of them held a little place there. That feeling when certain people make your chest warm, make your heart warm – as cheesy as it sounds – was something I'd come to experience with them. And witnessing Edward and Rosalie doing something he and I had been doing only a few hours prior just made that special place he held feel cold, and hurt. Watching them kissing had also made me realize that there are very different types of kissing. I wasn't sure what our kissing had looked like, but it sure hadn't felt like what their kissing looked like. Theirs was fast, their faces constantly moving one way and another, never pausing, never slowing. They made it look... dirty. And not just a sexually on fire dirty. An unhealthy, revolting dirty. I never wanted to kiss like that. Ever.

I don't know what I did the rest of the day. I don't know how my dazed look managed to escape the notice of the teachers, and Alice – but I was starting to think that maybe she noticed a lot more than she let on, and just chose not to call me out on it. If this was the case, then I was eternally grateful.

But she was making me go to the bonfire at the beach later on that evening.

I was so caught up in my thoughts of Edward, and Rosalie, that I only realized the absurdity of such an idea driving to La Push. A bonfire? On the beach? In the middle of September?

Alice had come over to dress me and make me up. Those actions cemented my thought that she had noticed my withdrawal, for she knew I was averse to such things, and took advantage of my absent composure to play doll with me. So, sitting in her car, realizing all these things at once, I glanced down to see what I was wearing, and was immediately grateful it was nothing too ridiculous. Warm, at the very least. A black sweater dress that fell mid thigh, leggings, my adidas shoes, and a rather fashionable black parka.

'Do you like the outfit?'

I turned to Alice, who glanced at me smiling, before returning her gaze to the road. I just chuckled, and smiled, nodding my head.

'Good,' she said softly. 'I tried not to take too much advantage of how much you've been out of it this afternoon.'

I looked down at my lap. She had noticed, as I'd suspected.

'If you need to tell me anything, you know I'm here,' she said simply, before cranking the music up. 'No more of this moping though. I was slightly worried your dad was going to be weird about us going out on a school night, but he was totally cool! I mean, for a police chief, he was awesome...'

I half listened to her ramblings, rolling down my window to feel the cool twilight breeze fanning me. It had rained all day, and the sun had finally broken through the cloud, the horizon looking bright and clear in the orange and blue glow of the setting sun. I stared ahead as the horizon seemed to get closer and closer, and felt something sit heavy in my stomach suddenly. A lump of worry that hadn't been there a moment ago, and a lump that got heavier and heavier as we approached La Push.

We arrived at La Push around seven. Despite the fact that there were clearly already some people at the beach already, Alice insisted it was still too early to turn up, and instead we went to one of the diners further down to eat.

At the diner, I was able to forget the heavy lump in my stomach. Alice and I sketched a bit in my notebook what we were thinking of painting in her room. Something I loved about Alice was the way she managed to make our interactions lack any kind of awkward vibe because of my lack of speech. She effortlessly carried conversations, always having ways of involving me physically – we'd compare pictures on our phones, or compare music on our iPods, or sketch, or look at some homework together, or look at one of my books or one of her fashion magazines. We were never not communicating in one way or another, and it made me feel included, and easy.

We stayed at the diner for an hour or so, and after splitting the bill, we ambled down to the beach. We could hear and see the bonfire from the diner, and walked slowly along the shore towards the throngs of people.

I had to admit the atmosphere was great. People were milling together on the beach. Alice and I weaved our way through people, occasionally waving or greeting a certain person or other. Some people were smoking, others were dancing, others were kissing, others were chatting, other were eating... We headed for where the music seemed to be coming from – finally finding Jasper and Emmett, sitting on top of a cooler.

They hollered at us as soon as they saw us, and from the loudness of their voices it was obvious they'd obviously already had a few drinks. We slowly drew nearer, giggling at their silliness.

'Ladies! Fashionably late, of course,' Jasper drawled more than usual, waving a beer in his left hand. As soon as we were close enough for him to touch, he hooked a finger in my pocket and drew me closer. I stumbled slightly, and he laughed.

'Beer, my lovely?' he asked.

I nodded, and took a swig from his whilst he searched one out for me. Once he'd turned towards me again, offering me a bottle, I nodded towards the boombox nearby and tilted my head in question.

'Ah, yes, the fabulous soundtrack to our teenage antics,' he said seriously. 'That would be courtesy of Edward, the little shit.'

I sighed. Of course. Who else would play a rare demo of one of my favourite songs?

'Why, do you approve?' a voice said behind me.

My head flew up, and my eyes widened slightly. I slowly forced my limbs to unfreeze themselves, and took a deep breath. Running a hand through my hair, I slowly pivoted on the spot to face him.

He looked sinful. The orange flames of the bonfire danced and reflected in his eyes, and made them burn.

I wasn't sure if the fire made them burn, or if it was the expression in them that was one of burning, but either way, his eyes did things to my insides. And they seemed to be focused on Jasper's hand, which though I had not noticed before, I was now hyper aware of, locked around my wrist.

I cleared my throat, and his eyes snapped back to my face.

'Well?' he croaked out, his voice suddenly gravelly.

My mind fumbled for the question, and remembering it suddenly, ordered me to nod my head.

So I nodded, as Florence and the Machine sang 'My Boy Builds Coffins' from our left.

'Good,' he said finally. 'Come, I'll show you what else I have.'

I noticed he didn't offer, he ordered me to. As I processed this, he seemed to decide I was moving too slowly, and grabbed my hand, yanking me out of Jasper's hold. I stumbled hard into him, and suddenly a voice echoed in my mind, and a face drifted across my brain – _him_. I recoiled at Edward's forceful grip, and tried to pull my hand away. Edward wasn't letting go however, and that's when I started struggling. He didn't seem to notice however, staring behind me at something.

I was panting now, my heart pounding.

'Dude, get your fucking hand off her,' Jasper said, his voice suddenly much closer than I thought it was. His abrasive, suddenly sober voice seemed to jolt Edward out of whatever reverie he was in, and he let go of me suddenly, as if burned.

His eyes lost the intense, angered and far away look that had been present only seconds beforehand, and they focused on me, concerned and gentle. He cupped my face, and inspected me slowly.

'I'm so sorry, Bella, are you okay?' he mumbled. 'I just lost it, seeing you – '

He cut off abruptly, and let go of me, looking at his shoes, and stuffing his hands in his pockets.

I was frozen, again. But I recognized the desperately agonized and guilty look in his face, and stepped forward, slowly, hesitatingly raising my hand to stroke his arm. I spared a glance at Jasper, whose hard gaze turned back to Emmett and Alice when I met his eyes, the latter pair oblivious to our entire interaction. Turning back to Edward, I noticed his eyes had raised to mine.

'I'm sorry,' he murmured again.

I forced a smile, and shook my head, gesturing to the boom box. He nodded, and started leading the way, and I followed him.

Only halfway to our destination did I remember what had transpired earlier that day, so that by the time we were seated, an awkward and nervous tension had settled over me.

I managed to maintain a calm and nonchalant façade as Edward showed me the music he had. I nodded and smiled at some choices, and shook my head and frowned at others. All the while, I clutched my beer in my hand, and slowly drained it. When Edward lit a cigarette, I eagerly took the one he offered me, desperate for the release it gave me, my nerves wrought and twisted into a knot in the pit of my belly.

As I lit it, Edward placed his iPod in my lap, gesturing that I choose the next song. I immediately knew from scrolling through the choices he had on his playlist which one I would play, the tune had been festering in my brain ever since I'd spotted it.

He fiddle with some buttons on the boombox, and the song slowly rolled in. We'd had a couple of mellow songs, so it merged nicely with the previous ones. Edward didn't show any signs of approval or disapproval at my choice, but merely stared at me. I stared back shamelessly. The song seemed to bring out the emotional exhaustion I'd been feeling all day, and so I didn't resist when Edward pulled me down to lie my head in his lap. He lay back as well, and a quiet settled over us as Kate Havnevik sang Nowhere Warm.

The rain had cleared the sky, and despite the bright glow from the bonfire, the stars were visible above us.

And lying there, my tension with Edward seemed to lift for just a moment. Maybe he sensed it, or maybe he didn't, but for whatever reason, he started to point out the various constellations above us, and for a while, I let everything go, closing my eyes as Edward's voice floated over and in me. I let myself enjoy his melodies and tones, and prayed the moment would stay with me.

**I hope you guys enjoyed it, and that it was slightly worth the wait! Again, serious apologies for the ridiculous wait! **

**Maybe leave a review...?**

**Xxxx lots of love to you all!**


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